Escape
by Jessa4865
Summary: Carter and Reese run into some trouble and something unexpected as well. Rated for language, 4 parts total
1. Chapter 1

Escape  
jezyk  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
Spoilers: Anything through Matsya Nyaya

AN: There's a *small* bending of reality here, but don't think most people will notice/care. Don't want to ruin anything, so see the end of part two for the explanation.

Part One

How the hell she'd gotten in this position was beyond her. All she knew was that one moment she'd been sitting in her car, grinning at the trouble-seeking, trouble-making, gorgeous man beside her, even though she'd kind of wanted to slap him at the time. He had that way with her, making her smile despite herself, and he knew it. It was always evident in his playful eyes, in the way they'd light up when he knew she was giving in, then the sexy smirk that he'd offer her when he knew he'd won.

Yeah, the man was a terrible distraction, but hell, she'd had worse acquaintances in her life. John's heart was in the right place and she had to give him credit for the fact that he was actually trying not to kill people since she'd asked him to stop. He didn't give a shit how many laws he broke, even in front of her, but she understood his reasons, and so long as he wasn't killing people left and right, well, the rest was excusable.

She didn't mind being distracted by him usually. She didn't mind him trying to flirt his way out of whatever she was mad at him for on any given day. She'd grown to depend on him, on his constant vigilance, on his inexplicable desire to protect her.

The problem was that apparently he was equally distracted by her smiles, something she would have loved to have the luxury of contemplating.

Unfortunately, she didn't have that luxury. Not with the way she'd gone from staring at John with a grin on her face as she thought about how god damned handsome the man was to staring at John with a gag shoved in her mouth as she wondered how badly injured he was. She was suspended from her bound hands from some kind of hook, leaving her just barely able to touch the floor with the tips of her shoes, making her tightly tied wrists support her weight. John was a few feet in front of her in pretty much the same position, except that he was unconscious, likely a by-product of whatever had caused the blood streaming down his face. She had no idea who had grabbed them, but that whoever it was had gotten the better of John scared her.

It was a long time before he moved, his head flopping from the left to the right as he groaned. She didn't rue the feeling as his consciousness came back to him. She'd had the same miserable sensations, taking in her surroundings an hour or so earlier. She'd already determined that the place was littered with weapons that they could use if only they could get to them and she fervently hoped John could see an opening she'd missed. She hadn't been injured, not that she could tell, besides the god-awful pounding in her head. The blood had continued to flow from his temple, following a path down his cheek, soaking into his crisp white shirt, dripping onto the floor. She hated the sight of it, hated the idea that he was hurting. She could only hope he knew who had grabbed them and how to get out of this mess.

His head finally raised, his eyes squinting against the low light, revealing the concussion he didn't even realize he had. Despite the pain, he managed to survey the scene, carefully recording as much as he could so he plot an escape.

His eyes lingered on Carter, catching the fear and concern reflected on her face. He was sure she was mad too, undoubtedly pissed off at whatever he'd done to land him in his current position. He'd deal with that later. He looked over her carefully, searching for any hidden injuries, seeing nothing nearly as obvious as the blood that had pooled at his feet. He was glad that she wasn't injured; it was a small ray of hope in an awful situation.

He met her eyes, trying to reassure her that they'd get out of this, hoping to feel that sense of comfort he always felt when he looked at her. He saw it then, just for a moment before the worry crept back in, her utter trust. She was more concerned about him than herself because she had no doubt that he would take care of her, that he would protect her, that she was safe as long as he was alive.

If he hadn't had a gag tied around his mouth, he would have smiled like an idiot. He was that happy. It had been a bumpy road to earning her trust, but he had it now. He could die a happy man.

Once he rescued her, of course.

The happiness of seeing him awake and aware only lasted a few seconds. She watched him looking around and, hopefully, figuring out some way to escape. She watched him examining her, searching for injuries that were mercifully not there. And then he'd met her eyes.

The man was bound and gagged and beaten and probably going to be killed and he was just staring at her with the most stupidly contented look on his face that she'd ever seen in her life. That was all it took for the infernal desire to slap him to return. And she probably would have done it too, had she been able to move her arms.

As always he read her mind, and rather than the shamed way anyone else would have ducked their head at that moment, John winked at her.

Fucking son of a bitch. The man insisted on straddling the line between confidence and arrogance at the worst possible time.

But then, with a strength that his lanky arms belied, he pulled himself up, grabbing onto the chain that supported the hook, lifting, then freeing, his bound hands.

So maybe he was back on the confidence side of that line, considering that he was about to save them both, in which case his wink wasn't as irritating as it was flirtatious. Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she swore to herself that she was absolutely not turned on by the man flirting with her while they were both tied up.

When she opened them again, John wasn't in front of her as she'd expected. She'd figured freeing her would be next on his agenda. Instead she craned her neck to see him pawing through the crates with his wrists still bound, his gag still tied though lowered around his neck, finding a handgun amid the assault rifles and shoving it into his waistband under his shirt. He smiled when he spied something in the bottom of one of the crates, something small he tucked into his pocket. He took the opportunity to survey the room from the other direction and checked out the one small, filthy window before he picked up a bottle of water and returned to Carter.

He lowered the gag from her mouth. "Are you ok, Jos?"

She went to nod, but the small movement caused the blinding pain to shoot through her like she'd bashed her head with a hammer. "Except for the headache, yeah, I'm fine. Get me down."

He winced. "Me too. Flashbang, that's how they took us." Ignoring her request to be freed, he held the water bottle to her lips. "Here, drink some of this."

She contemplated kicking him in the balls, but decided against it only because it might keep him from helping her eventually. "Untie me."

"If they come in here and find you untied, they're going to know something's up." He lifted the bottle to her lips again. "Here, hurry."

It was only sheer desperation that let her take a small sip. But she pulled back, his words rolling through her pain-addled head. "And they're not going to notice you untied?" Her heart skipped a beat as she feared he might have had something more to do with the whole situation or maybe he planned to bargain his way free while leaving her behind. No, that was ridiculous, she knew. He'd never do that.

"I'm not untied." He indicated his hands. "Do you want more?" He seemed truly concerned with her desire for water. "Might not get any for a while."

She held his eyes, knowing he wouldn't hurt her, yet feeling horrible fear creeping back into her. The man liked to dance on the edge, he enjoyed playing dangerous games that risked his life. "Please, John, get me down." She waited for a response that didn't come, tears pricking her eyes when it sunk in that he had no intention of freeing her from the restraints. "John, please!"

He shook his head as he downed the rest of the water and chucked the bottle across the room. "If we go out there right now, they'll just kill us. We have to wait for a better opportunity."

Her chin trembled, unable to process the words he was saying, unable to understand anything besides the fact that he wasn't helping her. "John," she croaked through her tears, "why are you doing this?"

His hands lifted, cupping her cheeks. "I won't leave you, I promise." His eyes darted toward something behind her, toward the sound of footsteps. He didn't meet her eyes as he maneuvered the gag back in place over her mouth before doing the same with his own.

She watched in disbelief as he jumped up, grabbed the hook, and reattached his wrists.

Not helping her was unbelievably cruel, but suspending himself from the wrists that had to be as raw and painful as her own was just insane. The man needed therapy. And the next time she didn't have a gag in her mouth she was going to tell him as much.

There was nothing in the world he hated as much as disappointing Carter, except making her cry, both of which he'd had to do. Again. But in order for an escape to be successful, it had to be carefully planned and executed. Even with all the weapons their captors had stupidly left in the room, Reese wasn't about to take on an unknown number of men with an unknown skill level in an unknown location. He needed more data before he could decide on a plan of action and if he'd had another second, he would have explained that to Carter. Unfortunately, some of the bastards had chosen then to return and he'd had to ignore her pleas.

Having her beg him for something he had to deny her, hell, it hurt more than his head did. He'd have to apologize to her profusely as soon as they got out of there. And they would, with the help of the weapons he'd purloined during his brief escape.

He just had to wait to make sure no one would be able to call for reinforcements when he made a run for it. And he needed to know who the fuckers were who'd grabbed them, so he could get even.

It was abundantly clear a moment later when several men walked through the door. Reese recognized three of them as Elias' men. He wasn't surprised that the man continued to operate from behind bars, but he was amazed at the continued loyalty of the men. Usually when the boss went inside, especially one as unwilling to share his secrets with his second-in-command, the organization would be bogged down with in-fighting and power struggles and ultimately failed to maintain the sort of presence Elias had brought it. Clearly Elias had everyone scared so shitless they continued to perform their duties without complaint.

Reese shook his head as he thought to himself what an effective, inspiring leader Elias might have been in a legitimate position, in the military or even politics. He could have done a hell of a lot of good had he been so inclined if he had that kind of sway over people.

Of course, his minions probably continued to behave in his absence because Elias would have no qualms with killing them, their families, and their friends if they thought independently, so perhaps public service wouldn't really have worked out so well.

She cursed him in her mind as the time passed. She had nothing better to do than stew over the ways she'd get even with the bastard for leaving her in such a vulnerable position. If the men holding them got bored, the worst Reese had to fear was being beaten up. She, on the other hand, was well aware that she'd caught the eye of one of the bastards and could only fear when he'd grow tired of leering at her from across the room. Rather than contemplating that possible future, she glared at Reese and imagined how she could get even. That damn phone he'd given her was going in the trash. And she wasn't going to accept any calls from him. And she could turn both he and Finch into the authorities. And she could shoot him right between his pretty little eyes. That might get her point across. The son of a bitch could have at least given her a fighting chance, let her loose to grab one of those assault rifles he was so fond of, let her try her luck with getting free, or getting killed in the attempt.

He barely noticed her glare, if he noticed it at all. His attention was on the group of men, listening in to their conversations, maybe trying to figure some way out of the situation without killing them. For once, she wished he wouldn't bother. She wouldn't care if he killed them all, not as long as he did it before they laid a hand on her. Somehow, the thought made her not so angry at him, the idea that he was trying to do as she said when she knew his first instinct had to be to shoot everyone. She wished she could alert him to her change of heart.

But when she realized he was looking at her again, finally meeting her eyes after forever of ignoring her, he was trying to tell her something. He kept blinking at her, more like slowly closing his eyes and opening them again. She wondered if he was trying to communicate in Morse code, but that didn't seem to be it. She shook her head to tell him she didn't get his meaning, watching the frustration on his face.

What the hell did he want her to do? And just what the hell did he think she could do in her current position? He shook his head back at her, turning his eyes back to the men in the far corner of the room. Whatever the message had been, she'd missed it and it didn't look like he was going to try again.

A moment later, she realized what he'd been trying to tell her. He was making his move.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

He slowly, silently lifted himself up, freeing his hands of the hook once again, his eyes never leaving their captors while he dropped to the floor. Even watching him move, she couldn't believe he was that silent and she wanted to laugh at the bastards who had no idea what was coming.

Unfortunately, she got the second half of his message a moment too late.

He pulled something out of his pocket, snapped the top and tossed it, turning away and covering his eyes. Before she realized she was supposed to do the same, the flash blinded her, the painfully loud sound deafening her at the same time.

It wasn't going to do her headache any good. Two flashbangs in one day were bound to have lasting side effects.

She knew the blindness would fade in a few seconds, but she didn't plan to open her eyes anyway, not with how light sensitive she knew she'd be. The deafness would last longer. The combination of the two left her completely useless. John had been trying to warn her to cover her eyes, hoping that she'd be a little help. Instead, she hung there and waited, unsure what the hell she could do.

She felt his hands on her, at least she hoped they were his hands, pushing her feet out from under her, leaving her full weight to hang on her wrists. His hands were still bound, she realized, feeling the circle of his arms as they moved up from her feet, over her legs, and settled around her hips. She really wanted to ask him what the hell he was thinking, but there was no point. He'd covered his eyes, not his ears, so he was as deaf as she was at the moment.

He pulled her tight against him, struggling to lift her in the awkward position. As she shifted her arms and brought her hands down, she felt the tensing of his body as he fired the gun he'd taken, his hands shoving into her back with the kick, she stumbled against him, her joined hands falling onto his shoulder. She was no good to him in a fight, no use to herself in escaping. She had to stand there and just not be in his way until her senses came back to her. But he'd kept his word about not leaving her. She needed to stop doubting the man.

He began moving forward, both of them tripping over her feet as she tried to figure out where he wanted her to move. With his arms around her, it was difficult to get far. They could have used a moment or two to figure out what the hell they were trying to do and how best to do it, but with the way he turned and continued to fire on the men she couldn't see, she knew they'd just have to make do. He'd promised he wouldn't leave her behind and he was a man of his word, even if it would probably get them both killed.

By the time they'd staggered to the door, she could see again. It hurt like hell, but at least she had some idea of what was going on besides the overwhelming notion of being helpless in John's arms, though she concluded that any time she was lucky enough to be in the man's arms she'd be helpless whether or not she was in full command of her faculties.

She pulled back to catch his eyes, nodding at him to let him know she could see.

He nodded back, lifting his arms from around her and grabbing her hands instead. It would still be awkward, both of them still sporting bound hands, but they didn't have time to untie themselves.

He wanted to close his eyes, put on some extremely thick sunglasses and lock himself in a very dark, very quiet room. Though his eyes had been covered, the headache made his eyes water even in the waning light of dusk. His ears were ringing, a disconcerting side effect of having been way too close to way too many flashbangs, but Carter was safe and her vision had returned, though he knew she'd kill him for the headache she'd have for the next several hours.

He was fairly certain he'd gotten all the men left in the building, but it was hard to keep track of them with the way they'd been coming and going. Plus the way Carter had been staring at him, mentally eviscerating him, had been distracting, leaving him to wish he was as good with apologizing with a glance as she was at tearing him apart. Not knowing how many men were left to chase them, he grabbed her hands and ran. He wouldn't have minded keeping her wrapped in his arms for a while longer, forever actually, but she probably wouldn't appreciate it, even if there weren't people trying to kill them.

He hadn't been able to see anything of value when he'd looked out the window earlier, just a lot of trees. A mountain in the distance. Nothing recognizable. Nothing to tell him where they were. He'd have to wait until they could both hear before he could ask Carter if she'd been awake when they'd been transported there.

They raced down the hallway toward the double doors at the far end. He hoped for a car, something they could escape in. The men who'd been there had to have gotten there somehow. Bursting through the doors in what was probably a terribly loud and attention-getting manner if one could hear, he found nothing. The parking lot was overgrown with weeds and debris that indicated it had been a very long time since anyone had driven there.

Refusing to give into the disappointment, he continued moving, leading Carter around the perimeter of the building. They had to have gotten there somehow. There had to be something with wheels and a motor. It wouldn't do any good to rescue Carter only to get recaptured a few minutes later. He kept his hopes up as he turned the second corner, ignoring the instinct in his head that recognized the circular pattern of the debris around the lot that indicated a helicopter.

If they were trapped in the middle of nowhere with no way out and he'd wounded rather than killed all the men in the area... fuck, she was going to kill him.

Perhaps the worst part of it was that between the massive headache and the deafness, he wasn't on top of his game. Had he not been worried about getting Carter out of there, he would have helped himself to one, or ten, of the weapons in the room besides the now half-empty handgun he'd been able to conceal in his pocket.

He didn't have time to untie their wrists, not without knowing how long it would take for someone to give chase, and after the way she'd begged him to help her earlier, he wasn't about to let go of her. To hell with how uncomfortable it would be to run in their current positions. He was keeping his hands on hers, offering her whatever reassurance that his touch gave her.

He only had seconds to make the call, recognizing that there was no car in their future. There was a road, not in the best shape, but it probably led to a town. Unfortunately, there was no cover whatsoever along it as far as he could see, which would leave them sitting ducks for Elias' men to follow. The only other choice was the woods and the hills in the distance, not quite the optimum choice given their attire and lack of supplies, but at least there was somewhere to hide. He made the decision and started walking, his arms twisted sideways so his hands stayed folded around Carter's. He'd spent a lot of time on the run in his life; he kind of liked having someone there to hold onto.

It was disorienting to hear nothing as she tripped into the forest. Every time she took a step, she expected to hear the crunch of leaves and twigs, but there was nothing. There wasn't much to see either, between squinting against the headache and the sudden fall of night in the thick trees. She tripped along beside John as best she could, wishing he'd remember that he had quite a few inches on her, realizing that he'd already shortened his stride considerably. She wondered about his grip on her hands, confused why he'd slow them both down with the physical contact, but she wouldn't have argued even if either of them could hear.

Between his hands and her deafness, the dark woods weren't nearly as scary as they might have been otherwise. It was a blessing, she decided, that she couldn't hear the creepy sounds of animals and whatever else made its home in the darkness. Of course, it would be a decided disadvantage to not be able to hear anyone following them, which she assumed was why John was dragging her into the woods in the dark - because it was the safest possible option.

They staggered along for maybe an hour, by which time it was so dark that they'd both walked into trees repeatedly. It was just as dangerous to keep moving at that point, she knew, as to sit down and wait for morning. They were exhausted and impaired, so a little rest while their bodies recovered would be more helpful than pushing themselves until they collapsed. She wished she could tell him, remind him that she wasn't in the same kind of shape, mental or physical, as him which would keep him moving beyond human limits.

But he seemed to realize it on his own, slowing his pace and eventually stopping next to a group of large rocks. His hands were still on hers, allowing him to pull her to the ground with him. Her knees folded, her body sagging onto the uncomfortable forest floor. It might as well have been a feather bed for how wonderful it felt just to sit down. He finally let go of her hands, allowing her to loop her arms around her knees.

It took barely a second in the bliss that was relaxing for her to realize that it was cold. She'd been dressed for work and had left her blazer tossed over the seat of the car to keep it from getting wrinkled. If only she'd known that she'd be spending the night in only her light cotton blouse and slacks and she might have thought better of wrinkles.

He couldn't possibly have seen her shivering, it was too fucking dark for her to see her own hands, but he knew anyway. He scooted up behind her, his arms reaching over her head and coming down in front of her, pulling her back against him, his legs pressing against hers, his body cradling hers, warming her, comforting her.

It was the exhaustion, she told herself, and the fear and the nerves that made his touch feel so good. Otherwise she would never have felt so comfortable in such an intimate position with someone who, no matter how much she trusted him, was a stranger. But like all her interactions with him, her instincts won the argument with her brain, telling her to relax gratefully into the warmth of his body. She trusted the man with her life, with her son's life; it wasn't much of a stretch to trust him with her body.

So content she was already about to fall asleep, she barely noticed when he reached up to pull the gag from her mouth. He pulled off his own, then reached toward her wrists and began working through the knots to untangle the rope. It felt so good to be able to move her arms independently, to simply let her arms drop to hers sides for a moment. Of course, doing so resulted in her hands landing on his thighs, promptly reminding her that he probably expected her to return the favor.

She was almost loathe to do it, fearing that the first thing he would do when he was unbound would be to move away from her. But she could hardly deny him the simple comfort that he'd given her by removing the ropes from her sore wrists. She worked through the knots, her slim fingers making quicker work of them than John's had, finally pulling the loose rope free and tossing it into the darkness.

She heard it fall, realizing belatedly that her hearing had returned. She turned her head toward him, glad that he hadn't yet moved away. "John?"

He didn't answer, his attention instead on wrapping his freed arms over hers, pulling her tightly against him, his legs shifting inward as well, more or less giving her a whole body hug. As skinny as he was, he was still twice her size, dwarfing her with his enormous frame, making her feel safe and protected and precious with the way he cradled her.

So he had no plans to pull away and she was thankful for that. She needed the comfort, the reassurance, the warmth. Despite the circumstances, she was happy in that moment. For whatever reason, this amazing man wanted to prove himself to her, show that he was worthy of her good opinion. She couldn't wait for his hearing to return as well so she could tell him he didn't need to try so hard.

It was unbelievable enough that he was holding her.

It shocked her when his face turned into her, his lips brushing against her cheek, his head ducking down to nuzzle her neck.

She groaned, unprepared for the intense wave of desire that rolled through her. Her head fell to the side to allow him better access and he took full advantage of it, dragging his lips across her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. Her hands fell on his thighs again, her nails digging in to hold him still in case he tried to get away.

His hands were moving too, brushing along her waist, his fingers slipping under her shirt to caress her skin. He wanted her, she could feel his body responding, and it surprised her that she'd never realized how badly she wanted him until now. Yes, she'd known that he was attractive and that he couldn't seem to communicate without flirting, but she wasn't prepared for the way his gentle touches overwhelmed her.

She dragged her nails along his legs, preparing herself to turn around and attack him with the desire he'd stoked, but his hands suddenly shifted, sliding down her arms, grabbing her hands, wrapping her back in a hug as his chin tucked over her shoulder.

God, he fucking wanted her. He wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone or anything ever in his life. But it was more than physical, more than fucking her. He couldn't face losing her, he'd suffered enough when she'd been angry at him, and he knew that if he let it happen like this, she'd hate him for it. She was happy to be alive and free and untied and was perfectly willing to show her gratitude by doing something she'd regret when morning came.

And that was one thing he wouldn't be able to stand - being her regret.

If anything ever happened between them, which he wanted far more than he cared to admit, he wanted it to last. He wasn't going to be able to just walk away from her and pretend it was nothing.

Unfortunately, without being able to explain himself, their ears still deafened from the second flashbang of the day, he knew she'd just feel rejected. There was nothing he could do besides wrap her tightly in his arms and rest the side of his face against hers. He couldn't take advantage of her, even if it meant hurting her feelings in the short term.

He felt her shaking and he knew it wasn't from the cold, no, just a few minutes of their interlude had left them both overheated. She was crying, crying because he'd stopped her, because she thought he didn't want her, though how she could think that with the evidence of the effect she had on him pressed against her ass he'd never know. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he held her close instead.

After the events of the day, it didn't take long before she started to drift off to sleep, he could feel her body growing heavy and pliant in arms. He could imagine falling asleep with her like that every night, witnessing the obvious trust she placed in him. He longed for a day that he could even hope for such a thing.

He moved his lips next to her ear, whispering something he'd never be able tell her if she would have been able to hear it.

"I love you, Jos."

Her eyes opened wide, staring in shock into the darkness. She'd nearly cried herself to sleep when he'd rejected her, only realizing as she was falling asleep that he was probably protecting her, as always. He was a man, an aroused man at that, and he wouldn't have stopped them just for the hell of it.

And then he'd spoken, the sweet whisper against her ear almost unbelievable to her hardened, jaded psyche.

"John?"

Nothing. No answer, no movement. Had he fallen asleep that quickly?

But no, he was awake, his arms shifting, his fingers lacing between hers.

He still couldn't hear and must have thought she couldn't either.

_AN: I realize that the effects of flashbangs don't last as long as they did here, but I took artistic license with it. Hope it didn't ruin the story for anyone._


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

He was comfortable. Mentally so. It was rather disturbing. Normally the first thought Reese had when he awoke was that someone was trying to kill him. The second was that certainly by the time he crawled back in bed someone else would try to kill him. It wasn't the most comforting mental state in which to live, but he was long used to it.

So it was a bizarre change that thoroughly upset his psyche when he was so perfectly content that he didn't care that people actually were trying to kill him. Angry, armed people who'd already taken him prisoner once that he'd pissed off by attacking and escaping.

But no, he was happy. He wanted to sit there, leaning against a rock, holding a sleeping Carter in his arms and listen to the birds chirping. He couldn't, of course. He wouldn't, of course. But he wanted to.

The thought would have scared the crap out of him if he hadn't already come to the realization the night before that he was hopelessly in love with this woman.

It had been far too long since she'd had the marvelous experience of waking up in someone's arms. Few of her dates made it that far; she was too protective of her son and too busy with her job and too paranoid in general. She sighed heavily, snuggling back into the warmth of his body, letting his scent surround her, feeling his fingers caressing hers.

And then she remembered this wasn't a morning after.

Well, it was, but not after that.

Well, sort of.

She shook her head and tried to gather her senses together. Technically, next to nothing had happened physically and as far as he knew, she hadn't heard his confession. Thinking of it set her head reeling again. He loved her. He. John Reese.

Was that possible?

She wouldn't have thought the man capable of any real feelings a few weeks earlier, not with the flippant way he responded to anything serious she asked him. Then again, she already knew that was a front. He was a smart man, he knew better than to wear his heart on his sleeve, he'd been trained to hide his weaknesses. And, when she reviewed them in her head, she realized his actions towards her had always been oddly personal, completely protective, utterly uncharacteristic.

She'd gotten to him somehow, slipped under that snarky armor of his, made him feel something he wasn't supposed to feel and probably didn't want to.

She was going to have to tell him she knew exactly how he felt when they had a chance to talk about it, which was, unfortunately, not then.

Feeling justified in the connection she'd always felt to him, knowing that he'd fallen under its spell too, she shifted her head toward him. "We should probably get moving, right?"

He didn't hesitate, springing up from behind her, offering a hand to help her to her feet. "I didn't hear any helicopters, so their reinforcements haven't gotten here yet."

She wouldn't have noticed a helicopter landing on her, she'd been that exhausted. "You couldn't hear last night."

His eyes locked on hers, a look of panic barely registering before he covered it with a smirk. "And you could?"

"My ears are still ringing," she lied, pretending to look around for some idea which way to head. It wasn't the time or place to get into it and she suspected that tearing down his walls was something she might need to be armed for.

He nodded toward the hill in the distance. "We were heading that way last night."

Biting back a remark about the other direction they'd been heading the previous night, the decidedly more fun, more intimate one, she nodded. "Lead the way."

She really, really wanted to bitch about walking in her favorite shoes, but when she saw John's loafers, and his pants, caked in mud, she knew he was no better off. It wouldn't make her feel better to hear him whining about his shoes, and so, she extended him the same courtesy. She'd never been big on hiking or mountain climbing; she infinitely preferred "cleaner" sports that were played indoors, but she thought she was holding her own. She called up her army training and her competitive streak, demanding of herself that she not crack before he did, simply because he'd think it was because she was a woman. Besides, he was thirsty and sweating and miserably uncomfortable too and it wasn't like they could sit down and have a beer while they recuperated.

Carter was doing an admirable job of not complaining. He could see how unhappy she was, hell, he wanted to whine himself. In fact, he was praying she'd ask for a break soon so he could sit down for a minute and get off his blistered feet. But damn her, she wasn't going to ask for mercy lest she appear weak in front of him and he'd be damned before he asked for mercy period.

He snickered at the situation, feeling her eyes on him as she wondered what he was laughing at. He glanced at her, taking in the way she licked her lips. He knew it was dehydration that caused it, but he couldn't help remembering how he'd touched her the night before, how he'd almost had a chance to kiss her mouth. He was an idiot. He hadn't wanted her to regret anything they did, but fuck, he was never going to be in a position like that again, she'd never be willing again, and he'd given up the one fucking opportunity he'd ever had to touch her. Growling at himself for blowing his chance, no matter how sound his reasons had been for doing it, his good humor disappeared and he surged forward.

Like a trooper, she didn't ask. She didn't complain. She just tried to keep up.

He felt like an ass when she tripped, coming down on all fours. Returning to her side, he offered his hand for the second time that day. She took it again as she lifted herself stiffly to her feet. She'd hurt herself, but she wasn't going to admit it.

Fuck.

"Are you ok?" He knew she'd lie, but he felt like he had to ask anyway, maybe remind her that he wasn't always an asshole.

"I'm fine." She gingerly tested her left leg, finding that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

"Let's take a break for a minute." Considering that he had no idea where they were headed, he saw no point in wearing them out. Anyone looking for them, anyone following them, would likely not be on foot, so a few minutes of rest wasn't going to make any difference.

She sagged down on a fallen log, looking very much like she needed a nap. In lieu of any other choices, Reese sat beside her. They were silent for a while, thinking of wonderful things like hot showers and soda and scrambled eggs.

But finally, Carter broke the silence. "Do you have a plan here or are we just going to walk until you think of one?"

He couldn't stop the grin that he turned on her. "Are you questioning my methods, Carter? What happened to trusting me?"

"I have about a million thorns broken off in my legs, that's what happened to trusting you." She glared at him, though a playful smile started to appear on her lips. "If I get poison ivy, I'm going to kill you, fair warning."

"Duly noted." He nodded toward the hill they'd been climbing for hours, the hill that seemed more and more like a mountain as they forged their own trail over it. "We're heading east. We keep heading east until we find a road, then we follow the road until we find a car I can steal."

She closed her eyes, mentally erasing the last comment he'd made. "What if there's no road?"

"There will be a road."

"What if there's no road, John?" She needed to hear that he had some idea where they were, even though she knew he didn't have the faintest clue either.

"We'll eventually hit civilization, Carter. A road, a town, something."

Didn't the man recognize a request for reassurance? "What if we just hit the ocean?"

He grinned, casually slinging an arm around her and squeezing her shoulder. "I always wanted to retire on a beach."

Ok, so she had to give him credit for knowing exactly what she was asking. She leaned toward him and rested her head on his chest. "Oh, good, me too."

They stayed like that for several minutes and still, it was far too soon when John rubbed her shoulder. "We should probably get going again before we fall asleep."

"Shit, sleep sounds really nice right about now." She sat up. "I'm guessing that's the dehydration talking."

His arm didn't move from around her despite his intent to get up. "Yeah, when we get to the top, we'll look for water."

"And a road."

"And a road." He squeezed her shoulder again.

She stood, biting back the groan of exhaustion from her unhappy muscles. At the end of whatever road they found, she was getting a massage. And a hot bath. And a big, hearty, terribly unhealthy meal. Though the order of those items was entirely negotiable. "Come on, this mountain isn't going to climb itself."

John followed her head, unexpectedly reaching over to grab her hand and interlacing their fingers. She told herself it was because she'd just fallen, but she knew it made no sense. Plus there was the little matter of what he'd said the night before that comforted her. He was holding her hand because he wanted to. She smiled and fell in step next to him.

There was a road. It wasn't nearly close enough, but they could see it. She was so happy she almost cried. As it was, she just had to endure the self-righteous smirk on John's face, which, she was willing to admit only to herself, really wasn't much of a punishment. Of course, they needed to descend the far side of the mountain they'd spent the day climbing and then get halfway up the next one to get to it.

She looked over at the man who hadn't let go of her hand. "I'm starving."

"So am I." He glanced at her, reading her face. "What?"

"Aren't you trained for wilderness survival? Can't you kill a bear with your hands?"

He chuckled. "Maybe, but I'd really rather not attempt it unless absolutely necessary, just in case." Something skittered through the dry leaves a few feet from them. "Fairly certain I could kill whatever that thing is."

"I'm not sure raw field mouse is going to fill me up, definitely not if I have to split it with you."

He grinned. "We'd probably get rabies from it."

"Can you catch rabies from meat?" She pondered the question for a moment, knowing that she needed water more than she needed food.

"Let's not find out, ok?" He stepped forward, starting the descent.

"Damn it, John, we just climbed up this damn mountain for no reason."

"It was for a reason, now we know where the road is." He tugged on her hand, cocking an eyebrow. "You know the good thing about valleys?"

She really kind of wanted to stomp her feet and refuse to move, to send him ahead to get help, but the truth was that the woods would be far more intimidating without him next to her. "Enlighten me."

"There's water at the bottom."

Turning away from him, she eyed the thick growth of plants and trees below. He was right. And then, her aching body didn't matter so much anymore, not with the prospect of a nice cool drink of water awaiting her.

The trip down took a lot less time, not because it was easier, but because both of them were tired and dehydrated and stumbling. It was a hell of a lot easier to trip and slide toward the destination. In fact, John found the water a few seconds sooner simply because he landed in it. By the time she reached his side, he was already gulping water out of his cupped hand.

She was giggling as she knelt down beside him, thinking of how she normally turned her nose up at tap water, and yet there she was, drinking water directly from a stream.

And fuck if it wasn't the best water she'd ever had.

Though the fact that she was insane with thirst might have clouded her judgment.

She drank until she was sick to her stomach and then moved on to dousing herself with water, cleaning the mud and muck and blood from all the cuts off herself.

John put his hand on her arm when she went to gulp some more. "Careful, not too fast."

She glared at him, knowing he was right, wishing she could store some for later. They were going to start climbing the next hill, the last bit before the road. But there was no telling how far they'd be walking along the road or when the next drink would be coming.

It took all of her resolve to get back on her feet. "It's going to be dark by the time we get to the road."

He nodded. "Less chance of being spotted."

He didn't need to tell her it was good news. The men who'd taken them would have a harder time finding them. Provided they didn't get run over, they could possibly make it to a phone and get home. Oddly, it was somehow disappointing. Maybe she'd been looking forward to retiring on the beach with John. Or maybe she just wanted to spend more time with him, regardless of the circumstances. Or maybe, just maybe, his words from the night before, though unexpected, were hardly unwelcome.

If ever there was a more doomed relationship, she'd be hard pressed to name it. She didn't want to dwell on it, and yet, trapped with the man with absolutely no distractions, it seemed she didn't have any other options besides contemplating a possible relationship with him.

Reese watched Carter as she walked. They'd been ecstatic when they found water, but her mood seemed to change suddenly as they continued. He wanted to ask her about it, but he couldn't. She trusted him to keep her safe, they worked together on occasion, but they weren't friends. He couldn't just pry into her emotions and expect an answer. Chalking it up to exhaustion, he tried not to think about it.

He was glad when night fell, veiling her face in shadow so he couldn't see how upset she was. The longer it went without asking her what was wrong, the more impossible it became for him to say anything. He'd had hours now to wonder, to worry that she'd hurt herself one of the times she'd fallen, to wish he'd mentioned it when he'd first noticed it instead of letting her suffer.

They'd finally reached the road and were limping along the blacktop, eyes peeled for some sign of life in either direction, a car, a town, anything.

Her voice was soft, hesitant, her words so slow that it took him time to string them together into a sentence.

But when he did, he was fairly certain his heart stopped.

"I heard you last night."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, searching. "What did you hear?" His voice held a note of warning, what might have been a threat to anyone else. But he didn't scare her. Not anymore. Maybe he never had.

"Carter?" He sounded almost hopeful that she hadn't really heard his declaration of love. Perhaps he'd said all sorts of things to her before her hearing had returned.

She held his stare, almost wanting to laugh that he'd chosen then to try to intimidate her and to play stupid simultaneously. One eyebrow raised back, silently inquiring if he really wanted her to repeat it.

He swallowed hard. She wasn't going to let him get out of it and he knew it. The color drained from his face in the next moment, his face falling as his eyes lowered to the ground. The man hadn't looked so sick when he'd been shot and running for his life and facing down her gun.

She'd never seen him speechless and nervous and panicking. It might have been a power trip for others, but not for her. She hated being responsible for the way he was holding his breath. She reached out, aiming for his hand, trying to reassure him physically faster than her words would.

But he shifted out of her grasp, inching backwards as he stared at her. His face was pale, his eyes narrowed, his head slowly shaking back and forth. He'd never meant for her to hear it, she'd known that already, but his level of distress at the fact that she had made her wonder why he'd said it in the first place. Made her wonder if maybe it wasn't true.

She couldn't imagine why he'd lie, especially when he'd thought she couldn't hear him. Maybe he'd just been caught up in the moment, in the high of escaping.

She took a deep breath. "If you keep backing up, it's just further to walk."

At least that stopped him from moving away from her. It was hard to tell in just the moonlight, but she thought his eyes looked wet. What the hell was he crying over? She was the one who'd spent her evening contemplating and deciding to pursue something that apparently wasn't really on the table.

Her eyes were wet too, but she hoped he couldn't see it. She hadn't realized it at the time, but now that he apparently hadn't mean to say it, hadn't meant it at all, it hurt. A hell of a lot. She'd wanted him to care about her, to love her, because then it would all make sense. Then it would be ok for her to love him too, which was rather important since she already did and she didn't foresee that ever changing. "Did you mean it?"

She waited, hoping the sound of her voice cracking would merit some kind of response, continuing when it didn't. "I can't think of a reason why you'd say something like that if it wasn't true, but I don't understand half the things you do, so maybe-"

He reached out, his long arm breeching the distance between them, his fingers pressing against her lips to quiet her. He looked terrified as he stared at her. "I shouldn't have said it."

Damn him. Damn his evasiveness.

"I didn't ask if you should have said it."

He looked away, backing up another step. "I'm sorry."

Squaring her shoulders, she realized there was only one approached that ever worked with him. She met his eyes, determined that she wouldn't blink until he did. "I want to know if you meant it and I'm not going to stop asking until you give me a straight answer for once."

She was putting him on the spot. Not only had she called him on what he'd confessed, she was demanding more from him, a confirmation or a denial, before she revealed anything. She didn't know if she'd have the courage she was asking from him, but courage was never something John lacked.

Words, however, he seemed to have run out of.

"I-uh-" He closed his mouth, holding her stare as he took a deep breath. "Um." His eyes darted side-to-side, probably looking for some way to escape. She saw the moment he made the decision, the stoic expression that replaced his frightened one. "Yeah." He nodded, though it seemed more for himself than for her. "I didn't intend for you to hear it, but yes, I meant it."

Finally. Who knew the man was capable of actually answering a direct question?

"It surprised me to hear you say it," she began softly, not quite realizing what she was going to say, "to actually hear the words, but I think I already knew."

He stared with squinted eyes as he tried to read her in the darkness. "You did?"

She nodded, stepping a bit closer. "It's the missing piece to the puzzle of why."

"Why what?" He was standing his ground, and so she chanced another inch forward.

"Why everything." Why he'd let her pursue him. Why he'd talked to her. Why he'd saved her. Why he'd convinced her to join him. Why he couldn't stay away even when she got angry. Why he was always willing to risk his life to keep a promise to her. She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "And it makes me happy."

His eyes darted between hers, his face open and unguarded for the first time since she'd met him, displaying the love and hope and happiness she'd known he was capable of, but never expected to see, certainly not directed at her. "If I'd known it would make you happy, I would have said it sooner."

She grinned at him as she slid her fingers to the back of his head, pulling him closer. She wasn't about to let him backpedal out of this. Her fingers locked together behind his head as her lips touched his. No, she wasn't going to let him change his mind and she wasn't going to let him get away either. They'd earned a chance, to be content, to be together. They deserved this, she would just have to convince him of it.

It really should have been a shitty day. Considering that he was still being chased by Elias despite having gotten the man incarcerated and that he had another concussion and that he'd been without food for over twenty-four hours and had spent the entire day and night walking up and down a damn mountain and that he really couldn't look forward to a break any time soon, he would have happily declared the day a complete and utter waste of consciousness.

Except that Jocelyn Carter had her tongue in his mouth and was kissing him for all she was worth and was ok with him being in love with her. No, not ok, but happy. It made her happy. So, not so shitty, really. Might be the best day of his life now that he thought about it.

It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise. His instincts kicked in, his arms moving to pull her body against his, his mouth angling for control. Her fingers yanked his hair in response and he found himself chuckling, unable to deny his amusement. The woman was too damn competitive. He wanted to tell her relax, to point out that no matter who was in control, they were both going to win.

Then again it hardly made sense to argue with her when her mouth was molded against his own and her hips were pressing into his. If she wanted control, then hell, he wasn't going to argue.

He trusted her. In every way imaginable. It was scary for him to admit it, scarier to feel it. He'd never trusted anyone with everything - he'd trusted some with his heart, others with his safety, still others with his secrets. But Carter, he trusted her with him. All of him.

It was a blasting horn that drove them apart, the unexpected noise following the unexpected swell of emotion leaving Reese confused for a moment. The lights of the truck were blinding, reminding him of the head injury he'd been trying to forget.

Carter's hand gripped his, revealing both her fear and her trust in him. She leaned toward him, whispering as though the trucker might hear them. "If he were one of the guys sent after us, he probably would have just killed us, right?"

"Probably wouldn't have followed us in a semi either." Deciding it was more likely a disgruntled trucker who'd noticed them making out in the middle of a road, Reese backed up to the gravel at the shoulder. It wasn't like him to not notice an oncoming truck. It wasn't like him to lose complete track of his surroundings. It wasn't like him to not care that they could be in considerable danger.

He blamed it on the fact that all of his awareness was focused on the sensation of Carter's hand in his and his mind immediately remembered the moments when he'd been kissing her, distantly realizing that he might never be able to function again. Not when he had that memory. Not when he could easily convince himself there might be more kissing in the future.

The driver rolled down the window and looked them over. "You folks lost?"

When it became clear that John wasn't going to answer, Jos spoke up. "Our car broke down. We're looking for a gas station."

"Not much out this way." The man chuckled, reaching over to push open the door. "Need a ride?"

John finally joined in, cautiously examining the interior of the truck and sizing the man up. "Where are you headed?"

"Brooklyn."

"Perfect." Anything she heard would have been perfect with the promise of not being on her feet for a while. Grinning at John, she climbed up into the cab.

He followed her lead and pulled the door shut behind him. "Brooklyn it is."

The driver glanced at them again. "What about your car?"

John shrugged. "Somebody else can worry about it."

Satisfied, the driver put the truck in gear and cranked up the country music on the radio. "Should be a couple of hours, just let me know if you want out sooner."

Jos leaned closer to John, ready to claim it was to make room for the driver if John asked. But rather than asking, he simply curled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Whatever trouble they were in, they'd figure it out. They'd get through it.

Together.

With a grin, Jos slid her arm across his waist and closed her eyes. She'd never been more certain, more satisfied, with a decision in her life and she was pretty damn sure he felt the same.

~end~


End file.
